Newton's Law
by Shakespeare's Puppet
Summary: "An object in motion stays in motion, while an object at rest stays at rest." She was constantly moving and always fighting. So the day she finally stopped, he knew she would be at rest for a very long time. A story in which we learn that a person will always stop at some point, shattering into a million pieces.


_An object in motion stays in motion,_

Cammie was constantly training. She never stopped moving, whether it was beating the life out of a punching bag in the dark, running the stairs when she thought no one could see her, even tapping out a beat with her hands during classes, creating the rhythm of a song that only she knew the melody to. Anything to keep her occupied.

In some ways, she was the epitome of Newton's Law. She had started moving, she would never stop. She would keep going until her momentum slowed or something knocked her down.

Zach knew why she was like this. He had gone through the same thing himself. He had been stuck in that never-ending cycle of cluelessness, unaware that moving would only make things worse. She would drive herself to the point of breaking, shattering her already fragile mind and body into millions of tiny pieces.

He knew he should stop her, he really did. He saw what she was doing to herself, everyone did. She would end up killing herself, mentally, spiritually, and quite possibly physically too. But he knew that trying to stop her would only make things worse, so he did nothing. He stood by, waiting for the day she would finally break, stopping her motion for the longest while.

After all, he stopped. She would too. And he would be there to catch her in the moment.

She only got worse. She was seen by almost no one, always becoming the Chameleon and disappearing like she was meant to do. He knew it was hist fault, and he knew everyone else did too.

They made it rather obvious, considering they were spies and all. The glares in the corridors, the silence when he walked into a room, the muttering that followed him wherever he went.

He supposed it was his fault. His mother had broken her, with her torture and her questions that they both knew Cammie couldn't answer. He blamed himself. Survivor's guilt, they called it. While he knew some people blamed themselves when there was nothing they could do, there actually was many things he could do.

He was dragged into the Circle base where she was being held several times during her torture. He heard her agonized screams that she tried to contain echo through the halls, and his heart contracted with every one. He knew he could have saved her several times. He could have burst into the room and played the hero, killing the villain and saving the princess. But instead he chose the cowardly lion, the one too afraid to act because of their own personal fear.

So yes, there were things he could have done.

But then again, his situation was different from most.

_While an object at rest stays at rest._

The day she collapsed in the Great Hall was the day he knew she had stopped. She had broken herself, pushed herself to the point of shattering, nearly reaching her sadistic goal she had set for herself.

That goal was to fight until she died, and she came very close to achieving it.

With these thoughts running through his mind, he wordlessly picked her up and carried her to the infirmary, where she would stay at rest for a long, long time.

Soundlessly, he slipped into her hospital room. The moon spilled across her face, giving her the glow of an angel. _A broken angel, _he thought bitterly. He slid into the uncomfortable metal chair beside her bed, pushed her golden hair out of her face, and held her small, fragile hand in his, letting the steady beeps of her heart monitor lull him into a daze.

He knew she was resting, and would rest for a very long time. God knows with moving that long, she deserved it. But he couldn't stop the broken pieces of his heart slowly breaking a little more, knowing that he was part of the reason she had started her motion in the first place. It would take him eternity to forgive himself, and he would never forget.

Thinking back, this situation was almost mockingly similar to his own. He knew that when he had pushed himself, he had broken himself, and the same person had started the cracks. He laughed bitterly, and the sound echoed around the room, the soundtrack to his despair. He laid his face on the hand connecting to hers and started to cry. _Why!? Why on Earth does it always have to be ME!? _He thought desperately, struggling to contain his sobs, until they had mellowed to simple trails of salty liquid betraying his inner walls he had worked for years to construct.

He sat there until dawn, lost in his own thoughts, half conscious and half dreaming, letting mournful tears slip down his nose and onto their conjoined hands.

If he had looked up, he would have seen Cammie crying too.

**AN: Boom! How was that for a shot at angst? I must say, even though I am crying, I am pretty proud of this. It had originally started as a Cammie Angst story, but then slowly turned into a one shot of Zach's inner turmoil. I had wanted to write a short story like this anyway, so consider Challenge: Accepted and Completed. **

**I hope you enjoyed my insight into the mind of Zachary Goode, though I do feel a bit terrible. My characters always have inner turmoil and angst, which is why readers find my version of Cammie strange. I make her seemingly curious personality into something more dark and cynical, but I like to see the deeper meaning in characters. But I do believe that she is slowly turning into my Cammie, though I suppose she has a reason to. I think anyone would become depressed if they had been through what she had.**

**Signed,**

**SP**

**P.S. To those reading my other stories, SO sorry I haven't updated. Procrastination is a bitch.**


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